


Enough

by Professor_Maka



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, College AU, Cuddles, Kissing, Other, Sweet Fluff, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 11:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13480938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Maka/pseuds/Professor_Maka
Summary: When Kid meets Crona his second year mentoring, he gets far more than he bargained for. A sweet, fluffy college AU.





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescentcrona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentcrona/gifts).



> So here is my attempt at Kid x Crona for Crescentcrona, who won the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico and wanted sweet fluffy cuddly kissy Kirona. I'm hoping this delivers--they waited patiently and deserve good things. :)
> 
> Thanks as always to Sahdah for encouragement and eyes.

Cuddling on the couch was never something he thought he'd enjoy. In truth, Kid had never been much for physical contact of any sort, had actively avoided such closeness most of his life, yet here he was, a head on his chest, his hand stroking short lavender hair and reveling in the softness, the feel of it sliding between his fingers its own sort of perfection.

He basked in the warmth of them against him and in the warmth in his chest they inevitably invoked.

How he got here and now was less a mystery than it was both simple and inevitable, yet it had him in absolute awe when he really allowed himself to consider.

Perhaps it was because _they_ awed him so.

It had all started out innocently enough. Crona was a transfer student, Kid was on the welcome committee, and his job had been to show them around the school.

They really had very little to say, and so, the tour had gone rather quickly. Then, as Crona’s mentor for the semester, as he had dropped them back off at their small, drab shared dorm room with white walls, narrow beds, worn wood, and little else to make the space anything like home, he was supposed to offer to meet for weekly coffee to provide advice if needed. No one had ever taken him up on this offer and he'd never been particularly sorry about that--acting as an incoming student mentor as a notch on his community service belt didn't mean he had a real desire to engage, and those he “mentored” seemed content enough to leave it at the tour.

So when Crona had looked surprised, shifting their gaze from the sad little bed on which sat all their worldly belongings in desperate need of unpacking and said, “Y-you want us to have coffee?” -- at first, Kid had simply blinked in surprise. It took only an instant to recover, however, before he did damage control.

“As a part of the mentor program, you have the option to meet with me each week. It doesn't have to be coffee.”

He had placed extra emphasis on option, hoping they understood that offering was more a formality than anything else. But of course, Crona wasn't good at reading between the lines, was even still learning the subtitles of normal human interaction, so they had just smiled shyly and said, “Oh-kay.”

Another blink, this one longer. They weren't supposed to say _yes_ \--nobody ever said yes, not to him. Well. He'd just--have to make it work. “Alright, then. I noticed when we went over your schedule earlier that you have a gap Monday from 4-5. I also have free time then if this is acceptable.”

Crona had nodded, still shy, and Kid had bid them goodbye. But then he had been left with _how_ \--how did one actually mentor, anyway?

One person, at least, would be able to tell him, so coffee with Maka had been on the agenda as soon as he could arrange it. He'd chosen her favorite little spot on campus, a small cafe tucked into the library with windows overlooking south campus, and offered to pay to entice her away from her books and her boyfriend for an hour on a warm Fall Sunday. They'd managed to snag two plush chairs in front of the window, so far so good.

“How do you mentor?”

She'd looked skeptical, pigtails framing a frown as she took a sip of her masala chai. “I don't know, you're there for them? You help them figure things out? You’ve done this for a year, didn't you--”

“None of them said _yes_.”

“ _Oh_.” The tone was one less of understanding than of surprise and she’d bitten her lip. “Only one of mine said no last year, and only one this semester. Juggling 4 mentees isn't easy--1 shouldn't be too bad.”

“Okay so--what did you _do_ with them?” Kid had taken out his notebook--this was all new territory.

Eyes glancing to his notes, Maka frowned thoughtfully for a moment. “It sort of depends on the person? I mean, going back to last year, Patti was a Freshman who got assigned through the brighter futures thing--so I tried to focus on academic resources, but since she was an art major and that's pretty outside my scope, we really just talked a lot about time management and stress relief.”

“Didn't she and Liz just drag you to parties?”

A grimace had confirmed what he already knew, so she’d continued. “Or then, Tsugumi really wanted help making friends. And Soul--”

“Does Soul really count? Pretty sure he was only ever in it to spend time with you.” Maka and Soul had ended up together and Kid really hadn't been looking to go down that particular route--with Crona or _anyone_.

“He didn't even _know_ me! He--”

“Okay, so what did you do with Soul?” he cut her off. Perhaps it was best to know, if only to know what to avoid. The last thing he wanted was to send the wrong message.

“Um--watch movies?” The red in her cheeks had said it all.

“I rest my case. But what it comes down to then is doing what the person you're mentoring wants?”

A small shrug. “Basically. And we were _not_ dating when I mentored him, you know that. That happened months later.”

It had been Kid’s turn to shrug because it didn't change the fact the white haired transfer student was relatively antisocial yet had somehow taken an instant and obvious interest in Maka. Probably not the best example for him and Crona, he'd thought at the time. Definitely the best example for him and Crona, he would eventually come to realize.

Maka had gone on to explain how she dealt with some of her other mentees, and that they could schedule based on need--once a week was more a guideline than a mandate--and they had parted ways shortly after.

Of course, he thought idly, fingernails lightly scraping Crona’s scalp and eliciting a soft hum of approval from the vicinity of his chest, he never could have guessed what that would begin.

The first coffee had been awkward, painfully so, as they'd sat in those same cushioned chairs in the library he'd sat in with Maka only days before. Kid had asked Crona about their high school experience and had triggered instant fluster. “I--mother homeschooled me, and then--I--I--took my GED once I was e--emancipated.”

“ _Emancipated_?” His eyebrows shot up involuntarily, cracking the placid facade he was so used to maintaining.

“Yes--I--I--my--mother--wasn't--kind.” Crona had their eyes downcast, their hands tangling in the fabric of their loose pants, so clearly agitated that Kid felt horrible just for asking. Obviously, their past was a difficult subject.

Later he would learn that Crona had been terribly abused by their mother and had run away and been emancipated legally at 16, then placed into a group home program where they thrived and eventually, after a good deal of therapy and two years of community college, were able to transfer to DCU. Later all of this would come out in slow, strangled bits and snippets as they met for coffee and beyond. Later he would learn how much they had truly overcome. But back then, he could only nod and say gently, “You don't have to talk about it. Why don't you ask me any questions you have this first week?”

Crona had lit up then and bombarded him with a dozen questions about how to behave in class, and then they left with another meeting set up for the following week.

It had continued like that for awhile, and the longer it continued, the longer their meetings went and the more they talked about other things. Books they enjoyed, music they liked, their favorite movies. The last, in particular, fascinated Crona, whose mother had isolated them from all things Pop Culture. Even four years post emancipation, movies were still _new_.

“We should go see a movie to celebrate the end of your first semester!” he'd blurted out as their last coffee was winding down, the sunset view from the library windows heralding the looming end of the semester and, therefore, his mentorship. Kid hadn't meant to suggest it, but as the end drew nigh, he found he didn't want to lose this. Crona was--he didn't know, not exactly. Strong yet soft. They had been through so much, yet were ruled by a sort of sensitivity, a kindness. Kid--Kid had been handed everything, had never felt deeply, had never struggled other than with his obsessive perfectionism that tended to have him distancing himself from most people, and he--admired Crona, for being able to overcome so much and still be so fundamentally good, even if they were still working towards climbing out of the shadow of their past. That he wanted to continue to be a part of that climb, that journey, it wasn't something he could any longer deny. And yet--the clear shock on Crona’s face at his words had screamed to him he'd crossed a line, so he panicked, backpedaled. “I mean, that was probably too forward of me, I ap--”

“No!” they’d cut him off, more forceful than he could ever recall. “I mean--I'd--like that.” Their eyes had been downcast as they said it and he found his heartbeat doing strange things he simply couldn't account for.

“You--mentioned before you've not seen _The Matrix_ \--I have a copy, if you don't mind putting up with my roommate. He's a bit--unconventional.”

“I--no--I--” his heart fell, thinking that Crona had changed their mind, then soared anew as they finished, “I--don't mind.”

The smile had pulled at his face then, far more wide than he was accustomed to. “Excellent. Shall we?”

The part Kid was never quite clear on was how that first film had become a cuddle session much like this one, much like the ones they have engaged in every week for the past year.

At first, they'd occupied opposite ends of the couch. But then, Blake “Black Star” Barrett, Maka’s ex roommate and god brother who Kid had somehow inherited when she moved in with Soul, had stumbled in half drunk from whatever party of the week. He had quickly proclaimed _The Matrix_ was his favorite movie, bro, let a god in on that action--and Kid had scooted to the middle cushion to spare Crona from the questionable stylings of a full wattage drunk Black Star.

From there, somehow, someway, _The Matrix_ had become the whole trilogy, Blake had long since passed out on his side of the couch, Crona had fallen asleep in the middle of the third movie and somehow moved to bury their head in his chest as they were sleeping, and Kid had been horrified and fascinated and, ultimately, awed. They were so warm against him, and he had wondered if their hair was as soft as it looked and his hand strayed to touch it--and after a few strokes, they had made soft noises of pleasure that startled him into realization. “I'm so sorry, I should never have--”

“But.” Crona had looked up at him blearily, lifting their head. “It--it was nice.”

“It--was?” His horror turned to surprise then a vague warmth.

“Y-yes. You--don't have to stop.” And they'd laid their head back on his chest, cautious, tentative, giving him ample time to protest, but he hadn't, had just basked in their renewed closeness and warmth and stroked their hair through the rest of the last film.

After that, film night and film night snuggles had become a regular occurrence, a weekly ritual. For months they had repeated it, and then one day, content as always with their closeness, Crona looked up at him in the middle of a rather steamy make out scene, wide, dark eyes searching his. “Have you ever…? Because I wonder, sometimes what--it's like.” They had stopped stumbling over their words around him long ago, but their cheeks were flushed in clear nervousness.

“You mean--kissing? Um, no. Not--I mean, I haven't. But if you wanted to--” He swallowed, nervous himself. Kid had never wanted to kiss anyone before--mouths were full of spit and _germs_ \--but recently, he’d found himself thinking about what it would be like with Crona, and as they looked up at him so hesitantly, he found he _wanted_ to kiss them.

“I'd--like to try? Could I?”

Words would not come so he simply nodded, a small motion, and then their mouth was on his.

 _Soft_ , that had been his first thought, and _warm_. It was like a physical manifestation of what he felt when they were near, what he felt for _them_. Kid couldn't quite name it but it was strong and _there_ and the kiss continued, a firm moving of lips, for many moments before they broke apart, breathless.

“That was--nice,” Crona had said, gaze searching.

“It really was,” Kid agreed.

They'd gone back to snuggling and the film, but the kissing had become a normal part of their weekly ritual from then on, and Kid had since been able to name the warmth in his chest. Love. That was what he felt for them, strongly and deeply. He didn't know if they felt it in return, didn't know what they were to one another exactly, but he never wanted this to end, couldn't stand the thought of losing them.

Perhaps, someday, he would be able to name that warmth aloud, but he had always let them lead--could never forgive himself if he crossed a line that might have even the sliver of a chance of hurting them after all they'd been through to get here and now--so he remained silent.

Crona raised their head just then, the credits to the film rolling.

“I'd like to kiss you.”

They always asked. He always said yes.

“Please.”

And as their lips met for the hundredth time, as he felt their warmth once more, Kid thought that perhaps, someday, he would hear the words and speak them in return, but for now, this, their presence and their warmth, was more than enough.

 


End file.
